


Tentacle Fluff

by Lieju



Category: Gaston (Bande Dessinée)
Genre: Crack, M/M, Tentacle Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 16:16:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8020633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lieju/pseuds/Lieju
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day, Gaston came to work and had tentacles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tentacle Fluff

There were two odd things that made Prunelle stop into his tracks when he stepped into the mail room.

 

The first one that Gaston was working on the mail.

 

The second one was that there was a writhing mass of greenish tentacles poking from under his jumper.

 

The first one was definitely more unusual.

Prunelle narrowed his eyes. But these tentacles, they were certainly trouble...

 

"Gaston, what is this?"

 

"Mmhuh?"

He looked up, one of his tentacles reaching out to drop a crumbled piece of paper in the trash.

 

Prunelle gestured at the room suspiciously. It was looking _clean._

 

Gaston stepped closer to Prunelle, his tentacles absentmindedly arranging the desk. He reached closer to the editor and whispered: "I did not cook for you today."

 

"Oh." Now that he mentioned it, there was a distinct lack anything smelling like a pile of industrial waste burning somewhere in the corner of the office. "That's... nice."

 

Gaston reached for the editor's glasses, using his hands this time. "And you know what?"

 

"What?"

 

Gaston wiped the glasses clean and set them back on his nose. "I'm almost done with the mail backlog."

 

"Nghh," was all Prunelle managed.

A tentacle reached for the broom in the corner and started sweeping the floor.

 

"Anyway," Gaston told him, "I need to get back to work."

 

Prunelle watched him return behind his desk.

 

The editor stood at the door, staring at the office boy for a while.

 

Gaston was completely engrossed with his work, opening and archiving the mail, which all was going way faster than even a non-Gaston normal human could have with two arms, his tentacles working like an efficient machine.

 

Gaston lifted his head. "Shouldn't you get to work too? Deadlines and all?"

 

That shook Prunelle from his reverie. "What? Yes."

 

...

 

"Did you see Gaston?"

 

Prunelle turned to look at Lebrac. "What?"

He had known this was bad news!

 

"I just visited the mail room, and he was _working_ ," Lebrac told him. "And he told me he was almost done with the mail backlog!"

 

"Yes, that was bizarre," Prunelle agreed.

 

"And the tentacles are slightly unusual as well," he added as an afterthought.

 

...

 

Eventually, Prunelle couldn't stay away from the mail room.

He peeked in, and stopped at the disturbing sight.

 

He had fully expected to find the office boy sleeping. But instead he was hard at work. And-

"The mountain of late mail is almost gone?" Prunelle felt faint.

 

"Yeh." Gaston looked up from his work, his tentacles multitasking on the mail while his human fingers were dancing on the typewriter.

Prunelle was certain he'd spot how Gaston was cheating if he stayed there long enough. He couldn't have gotten rid of that mail legitimately, could he? Maybe he ate paper now, there was bound to be a downside to this all.

 

He watched letter and package after one another to be opened, quickly scanned and then filed appropriately.

Eventually the editor started feeling slightly foolish just standing middle of the room, and walked to the filing cabinet.

But instead of the familiar mess or the avalanche of junk he was expecting he was faced with the inside of a completely normal filing cabinet.

 

"Gaston?"

 

"Yes?"

 

Prunelle pointed at the cabinet. "It's all in order! And clean and well organized."

 

"Yes. It was a mess."

 

"There's... " Prunelle stared at the ring binders and other office supplies that presumably did not mainly exist to house mice. "Where did you take all your stuff?"

Now that he thought about it, there was a distinct lack of cat-hair flying around, and he hadn't been pecked once today.

 

"And your pets? Where are they?"

 

"I took them home. Sorry, I forgot to mention I took a trip to my apartment. Obviously I will make sure the time I spent away from the workplace won't be considered working hours. Maybe I'll stay overtime anyway, so I can just do that and not be paid for it?"

 

He stood up. "So, I'm done here. If you need me, I'll be in the archives. I'm not sure if I can arrange them today, but I'll do my best."

 

"Nngh?" The editor felt faint again at the thought of well-organized archives.

 

Gaston stepped to him, suddenly looking worried. "Are you okay?"

Prunelle stared. "What?"

 

Gaston laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I worry about you sometimes. You stress over things too much and act like everything is your responsibility. Do you want to talk about it?"

 

"No!"

 

Gaston stepped back. "Sorry, I obviously overstepped my boundaries. If you need me, I'll be in the archives."

He was going to leave, but stopped at the door. "Oh, do you have a preference?"

 

"In what?"

 

"In how I'll arrange the archives? I was thinking of The Universal Decimal Classification but I'd really like to hear your opinion. I have always valued your work-experience a lot."

 

"Mmmh. That's fine," Prunelle managed, and Gaston left leaving him wonder what exactly was going on with him.

 

And in what way it would eventually backfire.

 

 

...

 

Prunelle glanced at the clock. 4 p.m.

Demesmaeker should arrive soon.

 

Prunelle had been originally planning to get Gaston out of the office, but a quick check had confirmed he was indeed hard at work in the archives, and since it would have been a shame to disturb him, Prunelle had merely locked him in there.

 

Hopefully he'd stay out of the way-

 

"Prunelle?"

 

"Gaston? Why aren't you in the archives?" And what was in the bag he was carrying?

 

"Did you know the door could close on its own, locking anyone working there in?" Gaston shook his head disapprovingly. "Think of what a fire-hazard it is. But don't worry, I already took care of it and while I was at it, fixed all the doors in the building to follow the newest national fire safety recommendations."

 

"I see. But I'm busy right now, Mr Demesmaeker should be arriving soon, so could you-"

 

"That's why I'm here," Gaston pointed at his sweater and blazer. "Are you planning to wear that?"

 

"What's wrong with it?"

 

"Oh, nothing." Gaston pulled one of Prunelle's better suits from the clothing bag he was holding in his tentacles. "I mean, you always look stylish, but I think this would fit better for the occasion. I took the liberty of getting it cleaned, I especially like this one, it suits you very well and the tie communicates a slightly casual but nevertheless classic and sophisticated look."

 

Prunelle slapped his tentacle away and told him just in case: "I can dress myself." He took the suit anyway. "But thanks. But would you mind not doing that?"

 

Gaston looked back to where his tentacles were re-arranging the editor's desk.

"Sorry, they do that. But it's more organized and efficient now."

 

To Prunelle's relief when he returned from changing the office boy was gone.

Hopefully he'd stay away. Although maybe he had been right, maybe he had lately neglected to dress professionally for these occasions. He just had had too many suits completely ruined...

 

So when Mr Demesmaeker arrived, and everything seemed to go well he couldn't believe his luck.

 

He was getting cautiously optimistic, but when the office boy walked in Prunelle couldn't really be surprised.

Of course some catastrophe would happen, how had he even for a moment thought it wouldn't?

Maybe those were actually vines he had poking out from him, and there would be some plant-related problem. Maybe Gaston was actually a plant. At least he didn't seem to be a cactus...

 

"What is the meaning of this?" Mr Demesmaeker huffed. He pointed at the greenish tentacles that were setting up a flip chart. "That's not contagious, is it?"

 

"Don't worry, I assure you they are not," Gaston told him. Prunelle wondered where he had found a suit and tie. And he had even combed his hair, and was standing straight for once.

Prunelle had to admit, he looked like a proper young business man.

Apart from the tentacles, obviously.

 

And even when he started talking, the illusion wasn't broken. Prunelle had trouble following his speech, mainly from all the worrying and being distracted (both by how professional he was looking, and how the tentacles were busy with the flipc hart). But Mr Demesmaeker seemed impressed.

 

"-and if you look at the recent changes in your core demographics and the predictions for the next quarter by the leading industry experts, it should be clear that the best course of action for your company would be to enter into this contract." Gaston finished.

 

Mr Demesmaeker stared, looking impressed. "I would have never thought of that!"

 

He turned to Prunelle, an astonished look on his face. "Since when has _he_ been a business expert?"

 

"Oh, I shouldn't take the credit for this. This is all Mr Prunelle's work," Gaston said.

 

"Not really," Prunelle pointed out.

 

"Don't be so modest. I would have never come up with this without you."

 

And then the contracts were signed, and Mr Demesmaeker walked out of the building.

 

And nothing happened.

 

No seagull-attacks, no sudden fires, nothing.

 

Prunelle stared at the piece of paper in his hand.

The contracts had been signed.

 

...

 

Gaston stepped into Prunelle's office. "You're leaving?"

 

Prunelle nodded. Gaston had changed back to his usual outfit, but his hair was still looking neat and tidy.

 

"Do you need a lift?" Before the editor could answer, he continued, "I borrowed a friend's car today. So I can promise it won't break down, and that you'll be home in no time."

 

And true to his word, Gaston stopped the car in front of the apartment building Prunelle lived in.

 

He held the passenger's door open, and Prunelle stepped out. "This has been... A very unusual day."

 

"Oh, that reminds me," Gaston told him, following him out of the car. "Happy birthday."

 

"What?" Prunelle turned around. He hadn't even remembered it was today.

He frowned, confused. "Was this all, I don't know, _this all_ , because of it?"

 

Gaston nodded.

 

"So, this will just be for today?" Prunelle asked.

 

"Would you wish otherwise?"

 

"I... I probably shouldn't say anything." He stared at Gaston who really wasn't like himself today. Although it had been nice, and he wouldn't really have anything against him being a _bit_ more efficient at work. Or wear suits sometimes.

 

"But thank you."

 

Gaston smiled. "Would you like to kiss me?"

 

So, he had been obvious. Prunelle nodded wordlessly, but as the office boy took a step forward, he told him "Wait."

 

"Mmhuh?"

 

"Tomorrow," Prunelle told him. "Not because of the..." he gestured at the tentacles that had resumed cleaning and were currently sweeping the street. "But, you know, if you feel like suggesting that tomorrow, once you're more _you_ again."

 

Gaston smiled.

"Tomorrow then."

 

 

 


End file.
